


Home At Last

by thehoundandthebird



Series: SanSan One Shots [2]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, game of thrones
Genre: F/M, Game of Thrones - Freeform, Maester Luwin - Freeform, Sandor Clegane - Freeform, Sandor x Sansa, Sandor/Sansa, Sansa Stark - Freeform, Short Story, one short, sansan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-29
Updated: 2013-07-29
Packaged: 2017-12-21 18:58:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/903716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thehoundandthebird/pseuds/thehoundandthebird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa brought a hand to her lips and extended her other one hesitantly towards the large, scarred man before her. “S…Sandor?" </p><p>Sandor smirked, his eyes softening at the sight of her and he spoke gently, reaching slowly out for her hand. “I said I would come back for you one day, Little Bird."</p><p>***</p><p>Some years after Sandor's leave, he returns to Winterfell for his Little Bird. However, will she remember who Sandor is?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home At Last

**Author's Note:**

> Please note that I AM thehound-and-thebird from Tumblr and this is my account! Someone requested I post these in AO3 and I am doing it as such. 
> 
> Just like before, this is a story based off of the picture that I wrote the one shot entitled "I'll Always Be Back". I hope that you enjoy this one as much as you did the first one!
> 
> If you have any requests for a SanSan One Shot, let me know! :)

Home At Last  
(Sequel to "I’ll Be Back Soon”)  
By: TheHound-And-TheBird for Kallielefdrawward

Foreword: Hey guys! Just wanted to let you know that this story will be as soft as the last one, but there are a few “graphic" terms used in this story. “I’ll Always Be Back" was a little more innocent simply because Sansa was much younger back then. But we’re a little more focused on Sandor’s POV for the first little bit. Most of you probably won’t be bothered by it, but I thought I should just put this shout out there in any case. So, that being said, you’ve been warned. 

Happy Reading and Writing!  
~TheHound-And-TheBird

Sandor’s time in the capitol of Westeros wasn’t all that bad. He had gone up through the ranks and was eventually made part of Robert Baratheon’s King’s Guard. It wasn’t all that unpleasant… if you called watching guard outside of the king’s bed chambers and listened while he fucked his painted whores pleasant. On top of that, there were liars in court. Of course, Sandor always knew there were, but if there was one thing that The Hound hated the most was a liar. 

Apart from this, the pay was good, he took part in his share of tourneys and made a modest living off of his winnings; he had his share of great battles, but never boasted about it— he never liked having any attention drawn to him.

However, on the nights when he was lonely and nothing would soothe his ever racing mind and no whore to temporarily warm his bed, Sandor’s thoughts would slowly turn to Sansa. How he missed his Little Bird. It was especially on the colder nights like these where he missed Sansa the most.

Back in Winterfell, Sansa would sneak out of her chambers on cooler nights and snuggle up to him in bed. She always claimed she was cold and couldn’t get to sleep, but Sandor knew better. The Little Bird, as delicate as she may seem, had the blood of the North running through her veins— hot with certainty. On cold nights, she would have nightmares of White Walkers and she claimed her blood would run cold. Those were the nights she snuck into his bed chamber and slept with his arms wrapped around her tiny frame.

He wondered how she was faring and if she had changed and grown into the beautiful woman she was destined to be. Seven Hells, he prayed to the gods he didn’t believe in that he would know soon. He was to leave before dawn and within two fortnights, he would see Winterfell’s walls and he hoped beyond hope that his precious Little Bird hadn’t left with the rest of her pack.

***

That morning, the courtyard just inside the Main Gate to the Red Keep was teeming with Sandor’s men. They were preparing for their journey north to The Wall. Sandor, who was released from his duties of the King’s Guard (so he could return to his previous duties in Winterfell), was tasked with bringing prisoners to the Wall. The Black Brothers of the Night’s Watch couldn’t spare any more men to fetch them so he was charged with their transport. 

The Host of men would take the prisoners from the Red Keep and follow the King’s Road north to Winterfell, where they would stop for two weeks’ rest. There, Sandor prayed, he would see his Little Bird.

Sandor mounted Stranger and bellowed, “Has the Raven been sent to Winterfell?"

"Yes, Ser Sandor," one of the younger soldiers spluttered.

"I’m no Ser," he spat. “Mount your fucking horses— we ride for the Wall."

***

That day a raven arrived from King’s Landing. Sansa was up early that morn and was roaming the keep’s outer walls when the black bird landed before her on the stone balustrade. She saw the tiny scroll tied to its leg, bearing the seal of the Captain of the King’s Guard. Seeing as she was the only Stark left in Winterfell, and Master Luwin wasn’t around, she took it upon herself to read the tidings sent to her family.

Lords and Ladies of Winterfell,  
I ride with a host of three-and-five men and one-and-five prisoners for the Wall. We ask the shelter of your Keep for a fortnight before we continue on to our destination. We will arrive within two fortnights.

Ser Sandor of House Clegane, former Captain of the King’s Guard.

Sansa folded the piece of parchment and turned at the sound of footsteps approaching her. She looked up and laid eyes upon Maester Luwin. “Good morning, my Lady. What news of the outside world?"

Sansa smiled kindly at the Maester and accompanied him back to the Great Hall to break their fast. “It seems as if we’ll be receiving company, old friend."

*** 

It wasn’t long before the host of men arrived at Winterfell. On the morning of, Sansa was up early, just as she always was, and once her eyes had laid upon the growing shadow of men on horses rushing over the hills in the rising sun, she knew her guests had arrived at last.

Sansa dressed herself in a blue gown, one that brought out her Tully-blue eyes. She combed her hair until it shone and proceeded to the courtyard where it was her duty to receive her guests, as Lady of Winterfell. Soon, the first of the men began to pour through the gates. One particularly, unusually large man who sat upon a giant black destrier trotted over to where she stood. He removed his helm and something about the scarring on the man’s cheek struck her as familiar. The man didn’t scare her by any means, but brought her some comfort. It was as if she knew this man… He dismounted and came before her. He bowed and took her hand in his to place a kiss on her hand, as it was custom. 

"Lady Sansa," he said softly. 

"Ser Sandor, I presume. Welcome to Winterfell— " Sansa stopped short of her greeting when their eyes met. She knew right away from the look of utter relief and happiness in his eyes that they had met once before. His stormy grey eyes and his hoarse voice bubbled something up inside of Sansa, just bellow her belly. Sansa brought a hand to her lips and extended her other one hesitantly towards the large, scarred man before her. “S…Sandor?" 

Sandor smirked, his eyes softening at the sight of her and he spoke gently, reaching slowly out for her hand. “I said I would come back for you one day, Little Bird."

Sansa took a few slow steps forward and closed some of the distance between them. Her dainty hand automatically reached up to touch his face, as if by instinct. She flinched a moment when he took a sharp intake of breath. Sansa pulled back her hand a moment and looked him straight in the eye. When he didn’t move, she looked back at his scars and extended her hand to touch his scarred cheek. It felt so familiar to her touch— every crevice, every dip and curve of the scarred flesh was comforting to the touch of her finger. And for the first time in a long time, she felt safe.

The Little Bird let out a sight of relief and Sandor knew that she was beginning to recognize who he was. It had been so long since they were last with each other, and he didn’t blame her if she had forgotten most of him, but he knew she was remembering. Come on, Little Bird. You can do it. PLEASE remember, he said to himself. Please remember me.

It was then that something caught Sansa’s eye: the light of the sun had crept of the walls of the battlement and reflected its light off a small pendant hanging from the knight’s neck and resting on the centre of his breast plate. She took the pendant into her hand and whispered, “I remember this… My Lady Mother and I made this for my sworn shield was I was but six… he left for King’s Landing and— "

That’s when it happened.

The onslaught of memories from moons gone by came crashing back into her mind like a wave breaking on to a rocky shore. The nights spent snuggled up on his chest, the days spent walking and playing in the Godswood, taking strolls, dinning together in the Great Hall— everything was back and she knew exactly who was standing before her: it was her Hound, her non-ser, it was Sandor of House Clegane.

Her eyes darted to Sandor’s and they filled with tears of happiness as she brought her hand to his scarred cheek once again. Sandor let out a shaky sigh as tears of happiness formed in his own eyes. He allowed himself to lean into her touch. Sansa then launched herself at Sandor and began to cry. “Ser Sandor! Sandor! Oh, my dear friend, it’s really you!"

Sandor let out a sob of happiness as he cradled the back of Sansa’s head with one hand and the other wrapped around her waist, holding her closely to him. He fell to his knees and crushed her to him, taking in her comforting sent and repeating her name over and over into her long, auburn hair. “Little Bird, Little Bird…"

"I knew you would return to me," Sansa whispered, clinging desperately to Sandor. “I knew it. I’ve missed you Sandor. I’ve missed you greatly!"

"Aye, Little Bird. I’ve missed you as well." Sandor held Sansa out so he could look at her beautiful face and wiped away the tears that slid down her cheeks with his calloused thumb. She smiled tearfully and let out a shaky laugh. Little Bird leaned into his touch and brought her hand to the one that was cupping her cheek, completely ignoring those around them.

Sandor’s eyes flashed momentarily to Sansa’s beautifully pink, plump lips and wanted very much, after all these long years spent alone without her company, to kiss them. He smoothed a circle on Sansa’s cheek with his thumb and looked down at her lips again. And before Sandor could thing otherwise, he slowly brought her lips to his and kissed her gently. She froze and gasps could be heard sounding around them, but Sansa remained still. 

The Hound pulled away from Sansa and looked into her Tully-blue eyes, losing himself in them for a moment. That was until Sansa flung her arms around his neck and kissed him back, knocking him backwards onto his back. Sandor smiled tearfully into the kiss and let out a chuckle.

"Welcome home, Sandor," Sansa said happily before she kissed him once more.


End file.
